Ulysses: A Tale of Late Nights
by DiaTheMagicDragon
Summary: This is just a short fanfic based off of Josh Garrels's song, "Ulysses". It's a story about Draco, Hermione, their love, late nights, and why Hermione always stays. please just read it. I suck at summaries. (You should listen to the song as you read! Maybe replay it a few times. . . .)
**A/N:** This is just a Dramione fic I decided to write in the spur of the moment. I listened to the song "Ulysses" by Josh Garrels today and thought, "Hey, I could write something based on this." So here I am. This is my first fanfic ever posted on here. I have other ones partly written but have never published one until now. I'm really just hoping it isn't horrible. Please review and tell me what you think.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own _Harry Potter_. If I did, Draco and Hermione would have ended up together.

 _Ulysses_

It is nearly two o'clock in the morning when I hear the apartment door swing open. It is always like this with him. Late nights filled with drinks and friends and probably some girls. I try my best to ignore the fact that I was most likely not the only one he spent his nights with. There are ones before me and sometimes ones after me.

 _I'm holding on to the hope that one day this could be_ _made right_ _._

I am supposed to be the only one. That's what it's meant to be like when you're together.

Not for Draco.

 _I've been shipwrecked, and left for dead, and I have seen the darkest sights._

I hear him stumble around in the kitchen. I picture the pots that hang above the counter swinging when I hear the clatter. Merlin knows what he could be doing out there. Maybe making a pot of spaghetti, maybe cleaning dishes, maybe snogging another girl. The only thing that makes me doubt the third is the loud curse that escapes his mouth then.

He wasn't always like this. When we first got together, he was so attentive, so sweet. He was unlike Viktor or Ron. He was better. We both returned to Hogwarts for our seventh year. Both of us became head students, and soon enough, our patrols and duties were neglected for each other. It took a long time, but I realized that I had fallen for him. I had fallen for Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin Prince.

 _Everyone I've loved seems like a stranger in the night._

It was slow, his transformation. It all began after Lucius Malfoy died in Azkaban. He had claimed he hated his father even before the fact, but I knew how he really felt. He didn't despise his father; he despised what his father stood for. He hated that when he thought of Lucius, he thought of all those years in Malfoy Manor, his life controlled, his choices made for him. He hated that when his gaze drifted to his forearm, the Mark on it did not remind him of Voldemort, but of his corrupt family. He hated that when he looked into his mother's eyes, he saw pain, and he knew that his father was the reason it was there. But he didn't hate Lucius. No, I knew the truth. He loved his father. He was just too proud to admit it.

 _But oh my heart still burns, tells me to return, and search the fading light._

First he was angry. Angry at his father for controlling him, angry at his mother for allowing herself to fall prey to Lucius's mistreatment of her all those years, angry at himself for not being capable of protecting everyone.

Back from a meeting with the headmistress one night, I entered the shared Head Boy and Girl common rooms to find him on the floor with his wand pointed at his arm. His shoulders were hunched, his head down. Quietly, I shut the door and advanced. As I approached, I saw that his wand was pointed directly at the scar of the Dark Mark that remained. Several gashes ran through it, appearing as though someone had taken a knife and slashed at it. I knew, though, that Draco had done it himself with his wand. His entire body shook as he let out a sob. I threw my hand over my mouth as one of my own escaped. My Draco, my strong, strong Slytherin, in pieces.

The moon illuminated the common room through one of the large windows beside the fireplace. His face was painted a ghastly shade of white as his head turned to me. His wand fell from his long fingers and he went as to cover up the Mark. The blood oozed between his fingertips. It ran down his arm and splattered the carpet. I rushed to his side.

 _I'm sailing home to you I won't be long._

I slid onto the ground beside him and joined him in his pain. I cried as he did, and I shook as he sobbed.

 _By the light of the moon I will press on._

He fell into my arms when I opened them for him, and he laid his head on my chest. Maybe it should have felt awkward, my small frame cradling his much larger one, but somehow it didn't. It felt . . . _right._ His tears soaked my shirt, but I didn't mind.

It was in that exact moment that I realized just how much I loved this boy.

 _Until, I find, my love._

"Draco," I murmured, "what have you done?"

He took a shuddering breath and spoke. "I just - I just wanted it gone."

Not the Mark, I knew, although that, too, would have been a benefit. He wanted the memories gone. He wanted to be free of the evil scar that reminded him of all his pain.

He had hurt himself to do so, and I felt his pain with him. I hurt for him. I hurt for myself. Mostly I hurt for the young boy he had been when he endured all that the Mark reminded him of now.

And still, I let him cry onto me.

 _Trouble has beset my ways, and wicked winds have blown._

He was just sad after that. I guess he had been sad for a while. He cried a lot. I let him.

A light flicks on outside the bedroom. I see the yellow rays slip underneath the closed door. I glance toward them and catch his footsteps heading towards the room.

I turn my face into my pillow and pull the sheets up around me. I may be awake, but he doesn't need to know that. He doesn't need to know that I wait for him every night he leaves. He doesn't need to know that I make tea for myself at midnight in order to keep my drooping eyelids from falling shut.

 _Sirens call my name, they say they'll ease my pain, then break me on the stones._

I could leave. I know I could. But when the door creaks open and Draco walks over to the bed and stops, I know I won't. Because I know him. I know what he will do.

When he kisses the top of my head, rubs a hand on my hair, and lets it lay there for a moment, I realize once again, to what extent I belong to him.

Fully.

 _But true love is the burden that will carry me back home._

I hear him begin to undress. The dresser drawers and the closet door open as he searches for pajamas. He is quiet now, his movements slow, shuffled - unlike he was when he first walked into the apartment. It's because I am in the room. He doesn't want to wake me.

 _Carry me with the, memories of the, beauty I have known._

If I left, I would be abandoning one of the most wonderful men I have ever met. I would be neglecting all of the good memories that outweigh the terrible ones. I would also be freeing myself. There is a price for freedom.

The sheets make a slick sound as Draco slides into the bed. He wiggles until he finds a comfortable position. His sigh as he runs an arm down my own causes me to smile a bit. Then I register the smile and it wipes off of my face, followed by a tear. The whole thing is a bit bittersweet, I would say.

 _I'm sailing home to you I won't be long._

I'm luckier than most. At least he comes home every night. Throughout our relationship, there has never been a night when I did not fall asleep with his arm slung around my body. There has never been a morning when I did not wake up before him and stare at him and wonder how the hell I got so lucky. Because I really did.

 _By the light of moon I will press on._

I can't complain. Maybe he is rowdy. Maybe he has a bit too much fun. Maybe he spends a lot of time out. But he also kisses me goodnight every night, makes me breakfast when I sleep in, and tells me he loves me.

These things may not occur as frequently as they used to, but they still happen, and that makes me fortunate.

That makes me love him.

 _So tie me to the mast of this old ship and point me home._

And just as I do every night, I fall asleep thinking that, yes, I could leave. But I won't. I know I won't.

He needs someone to hold him when he cries, someone to wrap bandages around his forearm, someone to admire his beauty.

 _Before I lose the one I love, before my chance is gone._

He needs someone to love him.

 _I want to hold, her in, my arms._

I will be that person, even if I don't want to.

Damn you, Draco Malfoy. Damn you for making me stay.

 **A/N:**

So . . . was it terrible? I really hope not.

Thank you so much for reading it! Please review!


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